Timeless
by bambieisavenging
Summary: Agent Bonnie Locke believed she had the closest thing to the perfect life. The only thing that would make it better would be the sudden disappearance of Captain America from her life. With his constant woeful looks and the way he seems to know everything about her leaves the young woman unsettled. But when a freak accident lands her in 1941, she finally starts to understand.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything from Marvel. I just own Bonnie and the plot.**

Bonnie Locke was in trouble.

She shouldn't be, she was a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. Although, maybe that was the recipe of disaster. God knows that her father's involvement with the agency was what led to his and her mother's untimely demise.

But then again, she never remembered being in this much trouble before.

There was that time in Bogota, Columbia with the arms dealers that had a bit of a fetish with ripping people open, still alive. She still had a nasty scar from her hip all the way up her collar bone, curled and twisted around her faint abs and curving around the inside of her left breast.

Then there was the time she nearly froze to death in a Siberian winter, tracking down a man who dabbled in a little bit of everything the black market had to offer. S.H.I.E.L.D. was worried about the vials of liquid bioterrorism, she was worried about the kids being transported to the sex slaved market.

That one time Clint bet her that she couldn't walk on a tight rope. He was right. Thankfully, he was also right below her, which made for a slightly comfortable landing. (Clint did began training her on balance after that.)

Bonnie would also count that time that Tony Stark nearly took her eye out when she went to surprise him in his workshop once. Ever since then, she had to be invited in by Stark himself. Bonnie didn't argue.

Not to mention just a year ago, Steve Rogers was on the war path after Bonnie had meticulously placed silly string canister throughout his new apartment in D.C. Thankfully, once he discovered it was her, Captain Rogers just rolled his eyes and walked away. He did seem to have a sort of soft spot for her.

Just a few hours ago, Bonnie was getting beaten half to death once again.

None of those were compared to what was going on now. Bonnie, beaten and broken from hours before, was completely lost.

On top of that, she had a good feeling that she wasn't exactly in Kansas anymore.

Bonnie was in deep trouble.


	2. This Looks Bad

***IMPORTANT A/N***

**Hey guys! Thanks for all of y'all who have stuck with me for this long! Hello to those who just started reading!**

**I have rewritten the first chapter as more of a prologue, so if you immediately came to this chapter, go back to reread the previous one.**

**I have rewritten this because I have finally found a way to write this without me cringing. This, I feel, is how I've been needing to write this story for a while. I am very excited about this story again, and I hope you guys love it. There are some flashbacks, as I am using them to explain how Bonnie got to 1941, but they are going to be slowly revealing on how things came to be. Some will be more directly leading to her time jump, others will be bits and pieces of her life as indication why she would react to certain things. If the get too confusing, tell me and Ill try to fix it then and there, or explain it more in later chapters. **

**Either way, I don't own anything Marvel already laid claims to, but I do own Bonnie and the plot surronding her is a mix of my own imagination, the movies, and a bit of the comics. Thank you.**

Bonnie woke up surrounded by muted light, with a fuzzy mind as she tried to piece together what had happened, how it had happened, how much trouble she was in, and where she was. Taking a breath, several answers came to light.

One, there was plastic beneath her, filled with something squishy.

Two, there were sounds of cars a people not too far from her.

And three? She was in pain. A lot of pain.

In the words of Clint Barton: _This looks bad._

An involuntary whimper escaped her lips as fire exploded from her chest. She must've had several broken ribs and a severely bruised midsection. Bonnie moved her fingers next; three broken on her right hand, two on the left, with that left wrist definitely broken. Toes were next, and proven to be fine, however her right leg stung greatly. Bonnie scrunched her face, noting a busted lip, a cut on her forehead, and a possibly swollen eye. Add that to a concussion she was sure she had, Bonnie new then that she was bad off, but surely she had been through worse. So why couldn't she find the strength to move?

Bonnie's mind began to fade again. She was sure it was the concussion that had her head spinning, and because of that, she had half a mind to fight it. Her body, however, was in so much pain and a little sleep would help. Even if it was in an alley.

Drifting to sleep, or maybe unconsciousness, a voice hit her eardrums. "Bucky!" Bonnie groaned, the loud shout cut through her brain, igniting the fire that was dulling. A hand grabbed her shoulder, another cradled her head, and with a swift pull, her back was slammed to the ground. Pain erupted throughout her body, inflaming injuries she hadn't known about until that moment. _Had this person never heard of basic first aid?_

"Bucky, quick!" the voice was urgent. "She's still alive!"

Another voice joined him then, but Bonnie's consciousness was fading quick.

**_May 20, 2013_**

_ "Good morning Agent Locke," Bonnie grunted at Director Fury in reply, focusing more on the punching bag in front of her. "I have an assignment for you, if you're sick of beating up that bag." Bonnie stilled herself, giving a brief glance at her superior before doing a double -take._

_ "What kind of assignment?" Bonnie gave a questioning look at Fury's civilian attire of dark-denim jeans and a button-up black shirt._

_ "A simple one," Fury replied. "A date."_

_ "A date?" Bonnie cocked her head. "Who's the target?"_

_ "Me."_

_ "You?"_

_ Fury sighed, giving Agent Locke a slight glance of concern. "It's your birthday, Bonnie. Agent Barton is on assignment, so I thought that maybe a nice dinner with me will do until he returns."_

_ "Sir I don't think-" but whatever Bonnie was going to say was silenced with a look from the director. "I'll be ready in 30."_

_ "Make it 5, Miss Locke," said Fury as he turned to leave. "Meet me in the garage in 10."_

_ Bonnie rolled her eyes and made her way into the locker room, changing into jeans and a blue v-neck tee before grabbing her badge, cell, and wallet before making her way to the garage. She found Fury waiting by his black SUV, his face hard and pensive. This was the first solid clue Bonnie had that indicated that this dinner was something much deeper than a simple dinner. As they climbed into the vehicle, Bonnie's mind was racing with the possibilities of what exactly could Fury have to tell her, and why wait?_

…..

Bonnie found herself upon a bed the next time she woke up. Another whimper passed her lips causing a scuffling sound from next to her. Groggy, she attempted to open her watery eyes, groaning when one stayed shut. _Yes, definitely swollen_. Thankfully, her other eye was generous enough to open all the way.

Bonnie looked up to a cracked and water stained ceiling. Seeing only a ceiling fan, she began using her limited point of vision to look around. From the corner of her good eye, she was able to make out a small end table to her left. Guessing by the way the light's intensity seemed to grow towards that direction; she knew that there had to be a lamp sitting atop it. Beyond that was a window; darkened by the lack of sun, but there was a faint crisscross of lines in the unmistakable pattern of a brick wall.

Testing her neck, Bonnie was pleased to find it only a bit sore, and immediately began a slightly painful turn to her right, scanning the room in the process. From her position on the bed, she could make out a door about 3 yards from the bed, a living room with a small couch and an old 1920's cathedral style radio in front of it; a small room behind that (from the sound of a faucet running, it had to be a bathroom), and finally, just passed the living room to the right, was a small kitchen.

It looked like a studio apartment from the late 20's early 30's. Where the hell could she be?

Suddenly, the front door opened. Bonnie closed her good eye until she could only see a sliver of the person who had entered. From a blurry vision, she wasn't able to see much, but she could tell that the person was tall, with short, dark brown hair. They walked with their back straight and confident, but with an almost lazy gait. A bag of something was held in their arms, before dumping it gingerly atop the small kitchen table.

"Steve," a masculine voice came from the blurry figure. "I got some bandages, a night dress, and some vegetables for a pot of soup. Did you get her wounds cleaned?"

The bathroom door opened reveling a smaller figure with light brown or blonde hair. Bonnie wasn't sure when she stopped hearing the faucet running, but she had guessed that 'Steve' had been washing either his hands or the towels before tall-dark-and maybe handsome had walked in.

"Yeah," said Steve, confusing Bonnie. His voice sound very familiar. "The cut on her head wasn't deep enough to need stitches after all, but it will need to be wrapped."

"Her leg?"

"That needed about 200 stitches," said Steve, "but she'll heal."

"Here," there was a rustling sound, followed by a thud. "I'll make the soup, you wrap her up. See if you can wake her and get her changed out of that… odd suit she is in."

Bonnie closed her eyes and slowed her breathing, allowing Steve to doctor her leg without any resistance. _Okay_, she thought, _if they are doctoring me they may be trustworthy. Or they can be getting me prepared for something worse. _Bonnie debated with herself, weighing her options. Did they know who she was? Were they… oh god, were they HYDRA? They hadn't found her, had they? Wait, was it HYDRA she was rescued from? That didn't make sense… HYDRA had been defeated 70 years ago, right? Why would she be afraid of HYDRA coming after her?

Bonnie's head began to ache as she tried to work through all the fuzziness. Calming herself, she went through the basics.

Her name was Bonnie Locke, 25 years old, born May 20, 1989 in San Antonio, TX. Her parents were James and Leeann Locke, both deceased. She was the honorary niece of Phil Coulson, now deceased. She worked for the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division, or simply S.H.I.E.L.D. Her best friend, Clint Barton, was on a mission without either her or Natasha Romanoff. Why wasn't either of them with him?

…

**_May 20, 2013_**

_ Bonnie was shocked to see Fury pick a fairly quiet part of Washington D.C. The pair was sat on the patio of a quaint little bistro, both finishing up their meal. Bonnie was the first to speak. _

_ "Thanks, Nick, but you know I'm not a big fan of bistros," she eyed him, took a subtle look around, and kept speaking with a low voice. "I imagine my present wouldn't be conventional for me, either?"_

_ Fury glanced up to her, cleared his throat, and said, "I think you need a vacation, Agent Locke. Ever since your uncle's death, you've been… a bit reckless." Bonnie narrowed her eyes._

_ "I'm fine," she spoke. "I'd be better if you didn't listen to Captain Rogers and his insane idea that I am not fit for solo missions."_

_ "Well, maybe you'll change your mind when I show you your vacation package," Fury's face had harden when he spoke, voice becoming irritable. "I was assured that this was the best they had. You'll be gone for a couple months of rest, before you are evaluated to see if maybe we could place you back on duty."_

_ "Where are you sending me?" Bonnie asked, raising her eyebrow._

_ "Ireland."_

…

_**Ireland**_

That was the code. The moment Ireland left Fury's lips, Bonnie knew. The quaint, little bistro, the birthday dinner that she would much prefer somewhere else, they were surrounded by couples and families and tourist. Even his outfit choice made sense. He was blending in just enough to seem like a man taking a girl out. Fury had a mission for her. It was big, it was top secret, and she was going deep undercover. But what was it?

She hissed in pain when a hand lifted up her head. Cracking open an eye, Bonnie's mind was lost.

"Woah, hey, I'm sorry, ma'am," it couldn't be. "I just need to wrap your head. You have a pretty nasty cut." There was no way… no way in hell. "I'm Steve. Steve Rogers."

This didn't just look bad. This was bad.

**Thank you to everyone who is reading this, or who has read my other version. I hope y'all love it! Please review!**


	3. The Two Different Times They Met

**Hey guys! Welcome to Chapter 2! This starts and ends with a flash back of what Bonnie was doing during the Avengers and explaining why she wasn't there. Is this format too much for this story right now? Is it too Arrow? Let me know if it is!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything Marvel. Marvel owns that.**

**...**

**_May 22, 2012_**

_ Bonnie couldn't believe her eyes. It was impossible, ludicrous! This had to be this century's War of the Worlds. There was no way New York was being attacked by _aliens_ of all things. Was this what Uncle Phil meant when he said Level 7? The proof that was in front of her, straight from the local news station in the dingy motel room in Mexico City, was still hard to process. She needed to get back to the states, and she needed to get back yesterday. _

_ But Bonnie was grounded at the moment. All flights had canceled around the globe as the world watched in horror as hundreds of alien soldiers rained down upon one of the world's most infamous cities. S.H.I.E.L.D. would've been out of the question. If they called the Avengers in, they would have to have all hands on deck._

It wouldn't have mattered if I had made it anyway_, she reminded herself. Bonnie left her mission in a hurry, there were a lot more casualties than necessary, she was wounded with infection starting to manifest due to the lack of clean water. Bonnie may have had success, but just barely. The long cut from her collar bone to her hip throbbed every time she moved, her ankle screamed in pain as assurance that she probably tore her Achilles Tendon once again, and bruised rib made breathing hard and labored. Bonnie's back stung no matter which way she turned, the burns from the explosion oozing a bit of puss as the blisters popped, and she was sure her misery knew no end._

_ Groaning, she pulled out her phone and sent a quick message before turning off the little television in her room. There was no point in watching it, nothing she could do about it anyways. All that was left to do was rest and wait. Hopefully she did her job just well enough to be able to stay put until S.H.I.E.L.D. was able to pick her up, as she doubt that she could make a clean getaway in her present condition._

_ What was it that Clint always says? This looks bad._

_ Bonnie smiled at the thought. It seemed that she had inadvertently inherited her former Supervisory Officer's trait of getting into the worst kind of trouble. Remembering the call that got her speeding up the mission, the one where her honorary uncle told her that Clint had been compromised, faded her smile. Bonnie's day might look bad, but she could assure you that Clint's had to be worse. _

_ She hoped Natasha Romanoff would get to him before anyone else. Bonnie didn't know Agent Romanoff too well, but she knew her well enough to know that the other woman would do anything for Clint, and she hoped that was enough to save him from whatever it was that he had gotten into. Although, she thought she may have seen the redhead in battle next to Captain America. Was Clint there too? He must be. Why else would Romanoff be there. Either Clint was still compromised and fighting against the Avengers, or he had been saved, and then sent into a battle of other worldly proportions. The latter seemed so innately stupid and irresponsible it wasn't even funny, but so Clint at the same time. _

_ Bonnie amused herself with the idea of Clint bursting through the door of her hotel room. His eyes would do an involuntary sweep of the room, expertly checking every nook and cranny, before settling on her. She could almost hear his sigh of relief before sauntering over to the bed, making a comment on how she was only in her underwear, as he checked over her injuries. _

_ "Yes, apparently it only takes an explosion to get me out of my dress," Bonnie spoke to the imaginary Clint Barton. He would shake his head at her attempted joke and wrap her in the dingy blanket, then carry her back to a quinjet. _

_ Her mind switched to a different scenario. One where instead of Clint, it was Uncle Phil bursting into her room. Were Clint would've started with a joke, Uncle Phil would've spoke words of comfort as he checked over the burns and cuts and bruises. Uncle Phil would be ever so gentle as he wrapped her up and lifted her damaged body. _

_ She hoped they would hurry up with the impossible and come get her. Bonnie had no idea how much longer she could last._

**…**

Bonnie felt like she couldn't breathe. Above her, with kind and beautiful blue eyes, was Captain Steven Grant Rogers.

No, that's not right. The man looking down at her was hardly a man, let alone Captain America; before her sat Steven Grant Rogers circa 1941. What the hell was happening? Her face must've said it all because in that moment, Steve's calmed face, twisted into worry.

"Ma'am," his voice was a half octave higher than when she knew him, but there was no mistaking that familiar timbre any longer. "Are you alright?"

"Of course she's not alright," the other voice, the one who walked through the door spoke. Bonnie heard his footsteps getting closer and closer. "Look at her! Some goons jump her good. Despicable really, beatin' a dame like that. Hey, darlin'." She didn't know who she was expecting, but Bonnie was still a bit shocked to see Sergeant James "Bucky" Barnes standing right next to Steve.

"Wha-" a scratched and dry throat was met with that first syllable. Bonnie cleared her throat, and continued, "What's the date?" It was a basic question, one she was sure she knew at least part of, but she needed to be sure.

Steve and Bucky gave each other a questionable look, before Steve spoke up, "December 8th 1941." Great. Just fan-fucking-tastic. She had been sent exactly 72 years into the past. By whom, though? How was she going to return?

"What happened?" Bonnie doubt that they would know of the source of her injuries, however they could fill in some blanks. "Where am I?"

"We found you in an alley about four blocks down," Steve said, quietly. "You were- are pretty banged up. I've gotten most of your wounds cleaned, but we need to… uhmm…" Bucky chimed in, saving Steve from apparent embarrassment.

"We gotta get that suit off you, miss," he said, gesturing towards the torn up Kevlar encompassing her body. "Get you into something clean and a bit more comfortable." Bonnie nodded and began attempting to sit up. "Whoa there, you're gonna injure yourself more."

"Then what do you propose I do?" she didn't mean to snap at him, but the helplessness was embarrassing and infuriating. Thankfully, Bucky wasn't one to back down.

"I'm going to put this out there and mention that Steve nor I have any desire to cause you to feel uncomfortable-"

"I don't care if you see me completely naked, why would I care if you see me in my undergarments?" Bonnie snapped. The men looked at her. Bucky was clearly amused, a smirk gracing his handsome face, while Steve look a bit stunned. Bonnie sighed, "I'm… look, you're right. I need to change. My suits a bit constricting. I'd love some help."

"O-okay," Steve noticeably gulped. "What do you need us to…"

"First, help me sit," Bonnie's voice was pained, and with very slight hesitation, the two men helped her into a sitting position. She gave a hiss of pain and indicated a brief break. Once the pain gave away to a static numbness, the three (with a bit of instruction from the young woman) successfully stripped off the top part of her uniform, her scar not going unnoticed by the two of them. Ignoring it, she spoke, "Okay, good. Now, can you pass me that bit of comfort you promised me, my good sir?" Bucky gave her a charming smile before going to retrieve the night dress from the kitchen.

"Mr. Rogers," Bonnie piped up, turning to a quiet Steve. "Can you do me a huge favor?" Steve gave her a glance and nodded. "I need to get this bra off. It's damaged and torn and I just… I'm sorry if it's too-" but he just shook his head.

"I don't mind," Steve's eyes widened. "What I mean is- well, I'd be happy to help. Well, not so happy-"

"I get it," Bonnie smirked. "Can you…" Steve nodded and moved behind her. Bonnie cringed when he released an audible gasp coming from him. Fingers ran down her right shoulder blade to the middle of her back. "Don't worry about that injury, Rogers, it's already healed up." Steve didn't reply but his fingers moved back to the hook-n-eye of her strap.

"You live one dangerous lifestyle, dontcha darling?" Bonnie tilted her head up to the foot of the bed to Bucky who stood with a sad smile gracing his lips.

Bonnie mirrored it, "Maybe, but it's worth it."

"How is getting beat up worth it?"

"I help people. If that means I get a bit beat up at times, then so be it," Bonnie ended the conversation just as the confines of her bra were released, allowing her breast to relax a tad. "Thank you." Carefully, she slipped off the now damaged garment, hiding her breast from the two men.

Bucky, who had glanced up at the ceiling, asked, "Do you need help with the night gown?"

"Could you pull it over my head? I think I can get the arms in." It took another five minutes for Bonnie to get completely free of her outfit and into the baggy, clean night gown. For this she was grateful. "Thank you both."

"It's not a problem, darlin'," Bonnie smiled to Bucky, already liking the man. "I don't think I introduced myself before. James Barnes, but everyone just calls me Bucky."

"Bonnie Locke," she said with a lazy smile; then, turning to Steve, "Sorry about earlier. It's nice to meet you. Both of you."

Steve smiled, saying, "It's a pleasure, ma'am. I'm sorry it had to be under these circumstances."

"Well, I'm glad it's the two of you that found me," she replied. "At least y'all don't seem like the murderin' type. I promise I'll be out of… whichever one of y'alls house this is after a nights rest."

"Oh, no you don't," Bucky piped up. "You are more than welcomed to stay here for as long as you like. Now, if you both excuse me, I'm gonna make us some soup. Steve, help her drink a little of that water."

Steve smiled and shook his head as Bucky walked to the other end of the room. He gave Bonnie a brief smile before bringing a glass of water into her line of vision and too her chapped lips. The cooled liquid soothed her aching throat, and quenched a thirst she was previously unaware of until then. Placing a hand over Steve's, she tilted the glass up more, draining the cup with a satisfied sigh.

"Thank you," Bonnie smiled, feeling a bit more comfortable around this Steve, than she was with the bossy one of the future.

"You need it," he said with a shrug. "And Bucky means it. You can stay with him as long as you like."

Bonnie gave Steve a small smile, "We'll see." A yawn escaped her lips, causing her chest to restrict painfully. "I think I'm gonna catch some shut eye for a bit, if you don't mind."

Steve gave a brief frown, but nodded. "That sounds like a good idea to me." Steve moved off the bed and to the kitchen. Bonnie soon remembered how easy it was to fall asleep when in pain.

**…**

**_May 24, 2012_**

****_It had been two days since she sent her Uncle Phil the first of many texts with her location, and Bonnie still found herself in the same dirty motel room in Mexico City. Even Clint seemed to be ignoring her texts, though she guessed that his phone was buried deep in a duffle bag somewhere. The call-in for agents was out of question, as it seemed the end of the world just happened, and the likelihood of even a message getting to someone in time was slim-to-none._

_ Her body was weak, broken, and a fever had ravaged through her body. Panic was setting in, as realization that maybe everyone, in the wake of such a global catastrophe, had forgotten about her. Forgotten the mission she was on. _

_ Surely they would come to her rescue. She was one of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s top agents after all. Bonnie grabbed her phone, noting the 4% battery power taunting her. She had one chance, one call that would hopefully get through. Weighing her options, she narrowed it down to Natasha (who was always prepared for anything), Agent Maria Hill, and Director Fury himself. But if her Uncle Phil wasn't answering, the Hill and Fury must both be too busy to give their phones a second glance. _

_ Scrolling through her contacts, she found Natasha's name, hit call, and prayed._

_ Three rings and then…_

_ "Hey, Bon-Bon!" Bonnie nearly cried when Clint's voice came from the other line. "You doin'-"_

_ Bonnie, in fear that her battery life was ending soon, didn't let Clint finish, "Mexico City, pink and green motel on the southwest end of town. Room 115. Neon palm tree sign."_

_ "Bonnie, what-" her phone went silent and she sighed. Clint knew where she was, and he'll be there to carry her out in the next couple hours. She just needed to hold on for that long._

_ She didn't know when she drifted into unconsciousness, but the next thing she knew a soft voice was calling her name. Bonnie's eyes fluttered open, locking in on crystal blues, which were not the steely color she was hoping for. However, she calmed slightly when her eyes came to focus and the face belonging to crystal blues became clear._

_ In a shaky whisper, she said, "Captain Rogers?" _

_ Bonnie was mildly surprised by the man who had shown up, but not as much as she was by the confused and hurt look that ran across that man's features. It was only a flash, though, before he seemed to remember something. Composing himself, he smiled down at Bonnie._

_ "Bonnie!" Clint's voice, though a tad too loud, brought a smile to Bonnie's face and tears to her eyes. Captain Rogers stepped out of the way for a worried and relieved Clint Barton. "Oh thank god!" Clint began his check up, too worried about Bonnie's broken state to joke, and too relieved to care about her silence as well. "We need to get her to a S.H.I.E.L.D. medical bay quick. The closest one still operating is in-"_

_ "There's no time," said Captain Rogers. "Look at her! We need to get her to the closest hospital-"_

_ "Where they will ask questions?" Clint countered. "We're still too close to her targets whereabouts, she had to rush her mission because of this whole 'Loki' thing, so we don't even know if she's being pursued right now, and we have a quinjet that can fly faster than anything else known to man. Nat, do you think we can get her to the Hub?"_

_ "Possibly," Bonnie's eyes drifted. So they sent Clint, Romanoff, and Rogers to get her. That was comforting. "Is she running a fever?"_

_ "Yeah," Rogers' spoke. "And there is blood all around her in varying shades of red. We need-"_

_ "Bonnie," Clint's voice drowned out the conversation between Agent Romanoff and Captain Rogers. That was fine. Let them plan, just get me home. "Hey, Bon-Bon, you can't fall asleep on me, okay. I need you to stay awake. Can you do that for me, buttercup?"_

_ "Buttercup?" Bonnie peaked up at him. _

_ Clint smiled, "It was the first thing that came to my mind." Bonnie hummed, eyes drifting closed. Exhaustion took over, and not even Clint's yells could jostle her awake. She felt as if she were falling and floating at the same time. Down and down, deeper and deeper. It occurred to Bonnie, then, that this must've been how Alice felt as she tumbled down the rabbit hole. Finally, she landed in freezing cold and blazing hot on a hard surface, before losing all feeling, physically and of her own self, as darkness finally enveloped her completely._

**_..._**

**So how do you guys like it so far? Good? Bad? Eh? Tell me what you think!**

**As always, thank you for reading, following, and favorite-ing! **


	4. Peggy Carter

_**IMPORTANT A/N:**_

**Hey everyone! Sorry this was late coming, but I was getting settled in my new job and I had a bit of writer's block. Not to sure about how I like this one. **

**Two announcements: **

**1) I'm changing this story from Avengers to Captain America, as I now realize that this is going way more in depth with Steve and Bucky than with any other character in the MCU. As well, I originally was going to have her come back to the future by the last quarter of the story, and continue with a bit into CA:TWS, but I have decided this whole story will be CA:FTA and I'll write a sequel revolving around/post CA:TWS.**

**2) The reason why I bring this up is because I'm thinking about switching it from a Cap/OC to a Bucky/OC, but I'm giving that choice to you! Send me a comment with the one you wanna see her end up with! Mind you, it wont be until at the very earliest, the last quarter of this story (but most likely sometime in the sequel) as I want to build their friendship up more. THIS WILL NOT BE A LOVE TRIANGLE. One of them is gonna turn out to be the brotherly figure and the other is gonna turn out the lover. BUT I'M LETTING YOU DECIDED!**

**Also, check out ****AmeliaSkellig's ****_Waiting For The Fall. _****It's an amazing story about an ex-S.H.I.E.L.D. agent help out our favorite Winter Soldier. Go read it after this!**

**Thank you everyone for your generous comments, they make me want to keep writing more and more! THank you for following and favoriteing this story, and of course for reading! Enjoy!**

**_June 5. 2013_**

_ Bonnie stood in front of the hotel room mirror, dressed in a full length maroon dress and silver high heels. _

_ "Name," Agent Maria Hill said from behind her._

_ "Mila Cruise."_

_ "Date of birth."_

_ "September 1, 1986."_

_ "Occupation."_

_ "Personal protection."_

_ "Why are you there?"_

_ "I'm in need of employment, and Snowy gave me the address."_

_ "Who have you worked for before?"_

_ "The fox in the hen house."_

_ Hill smiled, "You're good to go, Miss Cruise. Here is your ticket to the gala, good luck." With that she turned and walked out, leaving Bonnie to herself for an hour. _

_ This first part was always the hardest on a mission, convincing the target that you are someone you're not, but this was going to be much harder. Bonnie had next to nothing to go by; just a name._

….

December 9, 1941

Bonnie watched as Bucky moved around the small kitchen looking into a practically empty ice box. His body was tense, brow crinkled, as he listened intently to the radio host's cries for war. Mechanically, he took a pot out from the old ice box and placed it on the stove. Bonnie guessed it was the soup from last night, and her stomach gave a growl at that thought.

"You're awake," Steve stated, surprising her, as he made his way over. "How are you feeling?"

Bonnie calmed herself and gave a shrug, "Still feel like I've been hit with a truck."

"You look like you have," piped Bucky from the kitchen. "Hungry?"

"Oh God, yes!" Steve chuckled at the outburst and moved to sit on the edge of her bed.

Bucky replied, "Let me just heat it up real quick and I'll get you a bowl set with some bread."

"The bread is a bit stale," Steve spoke. "But it would do you some good to eat something a bit hardier than soup. Are you thirsty?" Bonnie nodded and Steve went to retrieve a glass of water. She sat silent, waiting for him to the return; the words from the radio filling up the apartment.

"So… war huh?" Bonnie could've mentally slapped herself for that question, but she just couldn't deal with just the sound of the radio. It was putting her on edge.

"Looks like it," Bucky replied.

"You're thinking about enlisting," Steve said to Bucky as he walked back to her, helping her drink. Bucky gave a grunt in response. "Great, maybe if we enlist together-"

"You're not enlisting," Bucky turned from the stove and pointed a spoon at Steve. "No way in hell."

"They're gonna need every man-"

"No, they are not-"

Bonnie rolled her eyes at the two of them, letting the argument go on for a minute longer before finally interrupting. "Hey, HEY!" both men turned toward her. "No one has to worry about enlisting now. They just declared war yesterday on Japan. Wait 'til the holidays are over and see how it goes. We may just be able to get this over with by then." The lie felt a bit bitter on her tongue.

Thankfully, the two men gave each other a look, and decided to drop the subject while in the presence of their guest. After a few moments of silence, save the radio, the smell of warm cabbage and onion wafted through the small apartment.

"Bonnie's right, Steve," Bucky spoke up, and then turned to Bonnie, "Still hungry?"

"Starving," she said, smiling. Bucky began to fill a small bowl, before grabbing a spoon and a bit of bread and made his way over to her.

Bonnie lifted her hands, saying, "But with these fingers wrapped, I may need some help." Bucky shook his head and shooed Steve off the bed and quickly took his place.

"I knew you were going to be trouble," he said, spooning some warm soup into her mouth.

Bonnie swallowed and replied, "Trouble? Honey, you haven't seen trouble yet."

"Why Miss Locke," Bucky spoke in mock shock, "I do believe you are flirting with me."

"Well, you are feeding me," she took another spoon full, "so I'm kinda in love with you right now."

"That's all it takes to win you dames over?" Bonnie shrugged her response, more interested in the food than in the conversation, and continued to let Bucky spoon feed her in silence.

"I think I can handle the piece of bread," she said after she was done with the soup. "You and Steve go ahead and eat. I know y'all are hungry as well."

Bucky smiled and nodded, and retreated back to the kitchen for his own meal. Steve lingered with furrowed eyebrows.

"You sure?" he asked. "I can get you more soup if you like."

Bonnie swallowed the bite of bread she was chewing, and said, "Mama always said to eat your bread before getting seconds." He gave a nod and walked towards his awaiting bowl.

Bonnie gazed at him as he sat in front of Bucky, with slight intrigue. Here she was, sitting beaten in a bed, watching the beginning of Steve Rogers turning into Captain America. A thought jolted through her. Was she sent here to help with that? Bonnie quickly ran through all the SSR knowledge that she had, which was quite a lot thanks to S.H.I.E.L.D., when something clicked.

It was right before she had started working for S.H.I.E.L.D., when she was a senior in high school. Bonnie's class had gone to Trinity University to see Agent Peggy Carter talk about the former SSR, the Howling Commandos, and Captain America. Being moved by the woman's adventures and life, Bonnie had stuck around to meet Agent Carter.

…

**_March 25, 2006_**

_ "Bonnie, come on!" she turned to the young blonde calling to her. "We're gonna tour the campus before lunch!"_

_ "Give me a minute," Bonnie responds with a smile. "I'll meet up with you later, Melissa." Melissa shakes her head and follows the rest of the class. Bonnie turned back to the stage, pleased to see the crowd around Agent Carter had dissipated. Bonnie bites her lip and begins to walk closer. Her back straight, shoulders down, and head held high, she forces and air of confidence to exude from her, masking nerves at meeting a woman as powerful and heroic as Agent Carter. _

_ Finally making her way to just a few feet behind the older woman, Bonnie clears her throat, saying, "Agent Carter?" Her own confident voice shocks her momentarily, but Agent Carter seemed to tense up. Slowly the woman turns to the teenager, eyes wide as she takes in Bonnie's face. _

_ "I… I just wanted to uh…" Bonnie's nerves caught up with her as Agent Carter scrutinized every inch of her. Clearing her throat once again, Bonnie stood a little taller, and spoke, "I just wanted to say thank you."_

_ Agent Carter seemed to snap out of whatever trance she was in, "Pardon, dear?"_

_ Bonnie frowned, this was not going as she expected. Still, she continued, "For sharing your story today, ma'am, and for helping save the world."_

_ Agent Carter gave a soft smile, "Your welcome… I'm sorry, what was your name again?"_

_ "Bonnie, ma'am," she replied. "Bonnie Locke." Something flashed in the older woman's eyes._

_ "Bonnie?" Agent Carter gave her a once over one more time, before giving the girl a genuine smile. "Is that a family name?"_

_ "No ma'am, my mama just likes old names," it was a practiced statement. "I was wondering if I can ask you a few questions before you leave?"_

_ Agent Carter pursed her lips and pulled out a business card. "Well, Bonnie, I am guessing you are here with your school," Bonnie gave a nod. "I believe they are going to be wondering where you are soon, and I need to get to another appointment," Agent Carter passed Bonnie the business card. "Here, take my card. It's not very often that a young woman such as yourself would take enough interest in this old woman's stories. My cell number is on there, why don't you give me a call once you get back to school and we can arrange a date for lunch tomorrow? Unless you have other plans on a Saturday?" _

_Bonnie held the thick, tiny card as if it were the Holy Grail. She snapped her green eyes to the other, "Oh, no ma'am, I don't have any plans. I believe we'll be back by 2:30, would I be interrupting anything?"_

_ "I'll be expecting your call by 2:30," she said with a smile. Bonnie nodded and turned away, still in shock by what just took place. "Oh, and Bonnie? Let's dropped the formalities, I'm not an agent anymore. Just call me Peggy."_

.…

Bonnie would always remember that Saturday. Peggy had insisted that the hotel's room service was the best in the world, and thus they had spent the afternoon there, laughing and talking much like old friends. Then Peggy asked Bonnie the most dreaded question any senior could get: _What do you plan on doing after high school?_

Bonnie remembered stuttering over basic plans that everyone was to follow: College, career, etc. She remembered Peggy giving her a knowing smile, and asked her a slightly different question: _What is the one thing you want to do with your life?_

Bonnie had smiled, saying, _"I want to help those who can't help themselves."_ Peggy had smiled at that answer, wishing her the best. Not even a week after graduation, Agent Phil Coulson was sitting in her living room, showing her a digital walk through of one of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s academies, telling her that she came with the highest of recommendations.

The memories of her late friend Phil and of Peggy before she fell ill filled Bonnie with bittersweet fondness, and yet, she had a sinking feeling that it wasn't her interest in Peggy Carter's many feats that had gotten her a job, but maybe Peggy had known all along about what is happening.

She made a mental note to question Fury about it later, as she was sure Peggy probably told him something. In the meantime she smiled as Bucky and Steve poked fun at each other. Her eyes began to drift close once again, her body begging for rest, and Bonnie smiled one last time before sleep took control.

…

December 15, 1941

"I'm just saying that we don't need a tall tree, Buck," Bonnie said pointedly.

"And I'm just saying its Christmas, and therefore we should splurge a little," the man retorted, looking at the price tag. His face twisted into a grimace and he turned to the three foot tree next to Bonnie. "On the other hand, it wouldn't be so bad to have a little extra money to spend on gifts and such, eh darlin'?"

Bonnie rolled her eyes, "You'll be the death of me someday, Barnes." Bucky just gave her a little smirk and picked up the tree. The two made their purchase quickly before making their way back to Bucky's studio apartment three blocks down.

Getting the tree in and set up with only a white sheet at its base, the two decided that now would be a good time to rest.

"You need ornaments, Buck," Bonnie said, looking at the bare tree. "At least a couple."

"I think Steve may have some," he said, giving the tree an exasperated look. "When he gets off from school we'll ask him." Bonnie had learned in the past week of being here that Steve had been accepted into art school with a nice scholarship, and worked about four days a week as a bus boy for a diner just down the road. Bucky, on the other hand, had forgone school and instead started work at a meat factory, which Bonnie was thankful for as he was promised a free ham for Christmas.

Bonnie had asked Bucky why he didn't want to pursue some type of education, he was way more than just averagely intelligent, but Bucky waved her off saying that it would've been a waste of time, which she guessed it was in the forties. Secretly, though, she thinks he works to help Steve pay his bills, as there weren't many options for the frail man out there in the working world.

Bonnie made a silent promise to herself that when she returned to her own time, she was going to make sure that there was a whole exhibit in the Smithsonian dedicated to James Buchanan Barnes, and the selfless deeds of his life.

"Can you call the diner and ask him to swing by his place and pick 'em up?" she asked, turning her head to look up into Bucky's handsome blue eyes.

"I'll do one better," he said, standing up. "You start cooking that bit of lamb, potatoes, and carrots I brought home, and I'll go get Steve and the ornaments."

"It takes both of you to grab a small box of ornaments?" Bonnie removed herself from the couch and made her way into the kitchen. Bucky gave her a tightlipped smile, waggled his eyebrows, and practically danced out the door. Bonnie shook her head and began seasoning the lamb leg, glad to be doing something she loved.

Forty-five minutes later, the lamb leg and carrots were roasted in rosemary and garlic, potatoes were mashed, fresh rolls were in a basket, and the table was set for three. Bonnie felt proud of herself, as this was the first time she wasn't cooking something that was beef or venison. _I think I'll tackle chicken next, _she thought looking over the meal.

A knock on the door tore her attention away from the table. Bonnie cautiously walked towards it, wishing against hope that she had her .9 mm on here at that moment. She peered through the peep hole, seeing nothing but black as another knock sounded closer to the bottom of the door, as if someone was kicking it.

"Bonnie, open up!" Bucky's voice came from the other side. Bonnie clutched her chest above her racing heart, thanking God that it was just a false alarm. She still wasn't in any shape to fight.

She quickly turned the knob, slowly opening it as to not let Bucky fall, and was soon face to face with three boxes covering the man's face.

"Oh, Buck," she said, grabbing the top two and before setting them down by the tree. Bucky and Steve, who was holding the smallest of the boxes, followed suit before turning towards the dinner table.

"Don't 'Oh, Buck' me, darlin'," Bucky said, as he made his way over to his normal spot. "This looks delicious, Bonnie." She and Steve sat down on either side.

"Yeah, Bon," Steve piped up across from her. "I hate that you were beat up the way you were, but I'm glad you're here too cook. We all know Bucky is useless as a chef."

Bucky, who had already taken a nice bite out of his piece of lamb, glared at Steve before whacking him upside the head. Steve gave a bark of laughter, then dug into his meal. Bonnie shook her head, smiling at the two, taking a bite.

Whatever may come, will, but at that moment, Bonnie was happy to just be in that little studio apartment in Brooklyn, in 1941, with two men who had shown her more kindness in a week than most of her friends in the new millennia had in years.

If only this could last a life time.


	5. Foxtrot

**Okay, okay, I am an asshole. I am so sorry this is late! And yes, I know it's a bit slow and short, but I wanted to show a bit more of Steve's thought process on Bonnie. Also, I didn't want to drag on too much with pre-serum time line, so soon Steve will become Captain America. In like 5 chapters I think. No flashback. **

**Also, I have a new story that I will *hopefully* update tonight called Spare a Glance. It's a Bucky/OC story, so check it out! **

**Thank you everyone for sticking with me! I love you all!**

**_March 15, 1942_**

Three months. It took three months of Bucky going back and forth between whether or not he should enlist to fight. For three months it was all he or Steve could talk about-well, argue about really. So when Bucky came home on night with a grim smile on his face, she knew.

"You finally decided to enlist?" Bonnie asked, turning back to her book. Bucky didn't say anything, just sat down next to her and kicked his feet up on the coffee table. She sighed, placed the book down and turned towards Bucky. "You enlisted. Wait! And Steve tried too and was rejected. Again. For the fifth time."

"It's only the second time," Bucky corrected. Bonnie gave him a look. Sighing he continued to speak, "I go to basic in three days. The day before I go I'm having dinner with my parents and sister, so I'm all yours and Steve's for the next two days."

"Well, then let's not keep Steve waiting!" Bonnie said, jumping to her feet. "Where is he anyways?

Bucky shrugged, "Probably getting his ass kicked in an alley somewhere 'cause he couldn't keep his mouth shut."

"You know, he gets in to more fights than anyone I've ever met," Bonnie states, "And if you knew Barton, you'd know how in complete disbelief I am with Steve half the time."

Bucky didn't question who Barton was, as Bonnie would just shrug him off and tell him it was a difficult subject to breech, just like much of her life prior to meeting Steve and him. Instead, Bucky removes himself from the couch, announcing that it's best they go looking for Steve now before the punk gets himself into more trouble.

It didn't take them long to find Steve, as he had been walking towards Bucky's place anyways. Bonnie scrutinized him, seeing a bruise already forming on his face and a cut right to the side of his left eyebrow. Bucky sighed beside her and shook his head.

"I should'a known you would've gotten yourself in a fight," Bucky said. "I should'a known when you weren't with Bonnie well after your shift ended."

"How do you know I didn't beat him up?" Steve gave a cheeky grin, but it faded with the looks that Bonnie and Bucky gave him. "Look, he was being a jerk to some da-"

"Steve," Bonnie interrupted. "Let's… let's just get you cleaned up. Buck, can you go get him a new change of clothes? I'm going to take him back to yours."

Bucky gave a mock salute before turning towards Steve's apartment. Bonnie grabbed Steve's hand and began tugging him along back in the direction of Bucky's studio home. Steve felt defeated; the slack grip in Bonnie's hand was evidence enough.

In the past few months that Bonnie had been in 1942, she had grown used to this version of Steve Rogers, realizing it wasn't just his physical ailments that the serum would heal. This Steve was awkward, more so than post-serum Steve, to the point where she would get secondhand embarrassment just watching him in a social setting. He lacked a lot of confidence to the point where it made him such an easy target for horrible jokes from not only crude young men, but women too. Bonnie had once witnessed a young woman walk directly to Steve and began flirting, only to laugh at his face when he asked her to dance. It was a horrid sight, when the pretty brunette laughed and asked what made him think a woman like her would ever dance with a guy like him.

Bonnie was infuriated. She waited until the girl walked over to her gaggling group of friends, taking about fifty cents from one, before she called Bucky over. Not able to convince him or Steve to give that girl a taste of her own medicine, Bonnie huffed and ranted the whole way back home. Steve stayed silent the rest of the night, but he was secretly glad that she made such a fuss about the situation.

Steve, really, just felt a bit embarrassed at what had transpired. In reality, he felt the girl that had approached him was a bit too shallow, and he figured something was up. Steve wasn't stupid, this wasn't the first time it had happened, and although the flirting was a nice change, it didn't shock him too much to be turned down in such a way. Honestly, the more he thought about it, he wasn't sure if he even wanted to dance with the girl. She was pretty, but she tended to sneer a lot, which assaulted her lovely face, turning her features into something that resembled the Wicked Witch of the West.

Lying awake that night on cushions behind the now-cushion free couch that Bucky had fallen asleep on, and close to the bed Bonnie occupied, he thought of the girl as she danced with Bucky. Much to Bonnie's displeasure, the girl had grabbed Bucky's hand and dragged him out onto the floor. The girl was an okay dancer, but quickly changed partners when Bucky had stepped on her toes. Bonnie later commented that it was her fault, as she wouldn't follow Bucky's lead, start out on her right foot, nor put proper tension against Buck's hand and shoulder to prevent that very thing from happening.

Steve smiled gently at the thought of Bonnie dancing. She reminded him of Ginger Rogers moving across the dance floor on the rare occasions when she and Bucky danced the Foxtrot. More than anything, Steve wanted to dance with Bonnie. She had offered on several occasions to dance with him, nothing fast like Swing, but he would wave her away, saying that he wouldn't want her to dumb herself down for him. Bonnie would just roll her eyes, saying that she has danced with worse and could easily teach him the Foxtrot in a matter of minutes. Still he denied.

Steve imagined himself taller and healthier, holding Bonnie tight as they moved along the dance floor to a slow and gentle song. Her lips, painted in that red lipstick she loved so much, turned up in a radiant smile, even more radiant than the one she gives Bucky when they dance. Her apple green eyes were shining brightly as he pulled her back in from a turn.

His daydream quickly faded when a slab of cold meat lightly slapped his face. Steve looked up into Bonnie's apple green eyes.

"Keep that on your cheek, I'm going to clean up that nasty cut on your eyebrow," she moved to the sink and quickly wet a dish towel. "Steve-"

"I know what you are going to say, so just save your breath," he said. Bonnie huffed and began doctoring the cut. "I know what you and Bucky think, but if someone doesn't stand up to bullies, then they'll get away with doing much, much worse."

Bonnie gave him a look. "I'm not telling you to stop standing up for people, Steve," she moved to the first aid kit that he didn't realize she grabbed, pulling out a square bandage and some tape. "Or even for yourself. But have you considered walking away?" Steve gave her a look. Of course he had, back when he was in school. But that didn't work then, either. Bonnie just sighed and finished bandaging his eye.

"Okay," said Bonnie as she pulled away. "How 'bout a deal. You keep your nose outta trouble, and I'll teach you the Foxtrot?"

Steve smiled, face half hidden by the slab of meat, saying, "I'll do my best."

Bonnie returned his smile, then turned to clean up the kitchen. Steve mused over the thought of Bonnie teaching him to dance, but quickly shook it away. He would try better to walk away if anything than to not see the worry and irritation on Bonnie's lovely face. Dancing… maybe he would wait. Besides, Tim Smith had shot up in his early twenties. Maybe he was a late bloomer, too.


End file.
